


Late Night Spaces

by usernicole



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:45:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usernicole/pseuds/usernicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"they will hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if I love you and I will say no but the needle will jump and sputter exactly how you laugh"</i><br/> <br/>It hits Louis in the middle of a show, bathed in lights and the screams of their thousands and thousands of fans. It’s like he’s been kicked in the chest, air punched out of him, and he’s suddenly, overwhelmingly in love with Nick Grimshaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> hiya!! this is my first canon au fic, so i hope i did it justice! 
> 
> the prompt for this fic was this tweet
> 
> which is beautiful and very intimidating to try and write for, so i hope this fic doesn't disappoint
> 
> i feel sort of bad for copping a few gryles headcanon things in here and making them tomlinshaw, so sorry gryles fans!! i hope u'll forgive me. :(
> 
> much much thanks to my friend prissy who read it over real quick!! hope u enjoy it!

It hits Louis in the middle of a show, bathed in lights and the screams of their thousands and thousands of fans. It’s like he’s been kicked in the chest, air punched out of him, and he’s suddenly, overwhelmingly in love with Nick Grimshaw.

Muscle memory pulls his microphone up, pulls the notes from his gut and out his mouth, but he’s not thinking about it, not focused on the words until he’s singing _“Right now, I wish you were here with me_.” The words hit home, loud in his in-ears, and he slides the palm of his hand up from his belly to his sternum, silently contemplating the sudden heaviness in his chest.

He tries to shake himself out of it, but the boys notice something’s off, giving him worried looks. He tries to smile at them, let them know he’s alright, but he can’t stop thinking it. “I’m in love with Nick.” I’m in _love_ with Nick. I’m in love with _Nick._

He makes it through the show, manages to pull himself enough out of his head that his performance doesn’t suffer too much. He makes his way backstage with his boys around him, sweaty and high off the feeling of just performing in front of thousands of people.

“Hey, Tommo,” Liam says, throwing an arm over Louis’ shoulders and pulling Louis to his chest. “What’s up? You’ve been caught up in your head all night.”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, Payno, get off of me. You’re disgusting.” He shrugs his way out from under Liam’s arm, but Liam just drapes himself over Louis’ back, giggling. Louis groans and elbows him in the stomach, and Liam ‘ _oofs’_ and falls back, tripping up Harry then Niall and Zayn behind them. Louis ignores the four boy pile-up in favor of pulling his phone up and out of his back pocket.

There’s a text from Nick, even though it’s way too late for Nick to be up on a weeknight. Louis opens it to see a sleepy selfie, Nick laid back in bed against his pillows with Pig curled up at his shoulder, nose buried in Nick’s messy bedhead. Slumped on Nick’s chest is a giant ball of fur that could only be Louis’ own dog, Bruce. The attached message reads “ _Thunderstorm. They’ve been like this all night_.” along with every variation of sad faced emoji, the pig snout, and dog. Louis feels the tug at his chest again.

“ _kick them out,_ ” he sends back simply. Behind him he hears the boys bickering and grunting as they try to disentangle their limbs.

“ _But they’re scared :(“_ Nick sends back, and Louis rolls his eyes fondly.

“ _kick them out and go back to sleep,”_ he sends and pockets his phone. His chest still feels weird, weighted, like realizing he’s in love with Nick has opened up free space in Louis for Nick to move in, and Louis decides he can’t think about it now. Out there in the middle of the middle of the American midwest, it won’t do him any good. His problem is miles and an ocean away, regardless of how it feels behind his ribs.

He clambers onto the tourbus, the rest of the boys climbing up after him, even Harry, who tends to spend his time on the other bus with Lou and other members of the crew. And Louis lets himself get lost in his four favorite people, in video games and smoke and pizza. It works, and Louis almost forgets for a few hours. Until all of his boys have stumbled back to their bunks and Louis is left alone, slipping his headphones over his ears for his own nightly ritual, notebook in his lap in case he wants to get some writing done.

Miles and an ocean away, Nick says “I slept _awfully_ , the dogs were up all night, scared of the thunder. Insisted on sleeping in my room, and then wanted to be coddled the whole night. Having Pig there is one thing, but I’m watching my mate’s dog for a while, and he’s a good sized dog! But I swear he thinks he’s like, a lap dog! Like a chihuahua or something --”

Nick goes on about how big Bruce is, and how much he sheds, but Louis’ slipped his headphones down to his neck, rubbing at his eyes. It hits him again, that awful feeling, like his heart’s swelled up to press against his lungs.

He’s in love with Nick Grimshaw, who only considers him a friend.

 

*

 

Their friendship didn’t start out in the most conventional of ways. The world thought that they had some sort of intense beef or something, but really Louis just couldn’t be bothered. He had no real interest in hanging out with Harry’s posh London crew, and hearing that Nick slagged him off on the radio just affirmed Louis’ opinion. They didn’t go to the same events, or hang around the same circles though, so it wasn’t really an issue.

That is, until one day when One Direction was on break from tour, and Nick walked into Harry’s flat to find Louis switching all of Harrys’ pictures with screenshots from bad gay porn.

There was no real reason Louis was doing it, just that he was bored and Harry’s an easy target, giving out his house key willy-nilly. And he was asking for it, with his _five billion_ photographs. Basically, all of Harry’s walls were covered in picture frames, and what’s the point of being a billionaire if you can’t print off thousands of stills from the sweatiest, muscliest gay porn Louis could find on the internet? He’d even thrown in some of that cartoon porn Zayn liked.

So that was how Nick found him, sitting cross-legged in the middle of Harry’s living room, surrounded by gay porn.

They stood in silence for a moment, staring at each other, until Louis said “This isn’t what it looks like.” a bit nonsensically.

Louis didn’t know what he expected Nick’s response to be, but hysterical laughter wasn’t it. He gaped up at Nick, who was bent over, giant hands gripped at the exposed knees of his skinny jeans.

Louis was surprised to find that Nick had a rather nice laugh, full and loud and a bit wheezy. Louis’ very favorite thing was making people laugh, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to make Nick laugh all the time, just for him.

“Oh god,” Nick said, wheezing. “This is great. Where did you get all that porn?”

“Uh, the internet?” Louis said, voice squeaking and the corners of his mouth lifting against his will when Nick started laughing again.

“This is so great, do you need help?” Nick said then, and didn’t wait for Louis to respond before he said “You change out the pictures, right? And then I’ll hang stuff back up.”

“Alright,” Louis said, bewildered. At least Nick hadn’t just immediately demanded Louis put the pictures back, or told Harry. Together, they managed to make quick work of the flat, taking pictures of the walls first so Harry would know where to put everything back. They worked steadily through the flat until they stood proudly in the living room, surveying their work. Or at least Louis felt proud, but when he turned to gauge Nick’s reaction, Nicks’ brow was furrowed.

“What?” Louis asked, indignant. “It’s _hilarious_.”

“No, no, of course it is,” Nick said. “But…”

“But what?” Nick looked over at Louis contemplatively.

“Do you think we could print some any bigger?” Nick asked. “Only, Harry’s paintings are a bit distracting.”

Louis looked over to where Harry had hung his weird sex art. “You know what?” Louis asked then, pulling out his phone to google where the nearest printers was. “You’re a lot cooler than I thought you were, Grimshaw.”

“You never really gave me a chance, eh?” Nick says, waggling his eyebrows and nudging Louis with an elbow. “Now come on, we need to do this before Harry gets back.”

Later on that night, sprawled out in Nick’s living room with Chinese takeaway and _Gogglebox_ on the television, Louis answered his phone with the sounds of his and Nick’s combined laughter, while Harry made distressed noises down the line at them.

 

*

 

Louis is woken up the next day by a hand gently shaking his shoulder, and Harry’s big green eyes staring down at him. 

“Huh?” Louis says blearily, blinking up at Harry.

“You’re on the couch, Lou,” Harry says, moving back to reveal Liam standing behind him, wearing gym clothes. “We’re off for a session with Mark, but we thought you’d be more comfortable in your bunk.”

“Oh,” Louis says, looking down to see he’s become tangled in his headphone cord, his writing notebook lying face-down on his chest. “Right,” he says, throwing his legs over and making to stand. “Thanks, lads.”

He’d listened to the entire show the night before, against his better judgement. He never tended to listen passed the Waking Up Song, because it’s ridiculous to listen to that in the middle of the night, but his earlier emotional awakening had kept him from shutting it off.

There had been a moment, on the show, with Showbot making some awful joke, and Matt really going to town on a toilet flushing sound effect, and Nick had started laughing.

It wasn’t nearly as funny as Nick made it out to be. It wasn’t even really funny at all, but Nick was dying. He’d moved away from the mic, but you could still hear him wheezing in the background. Louis, hundreds of miles away in a quiet tour bus, making his way through endless deserts and forests and cities, listened to the sound of Nick laughing in his headphones and felt like he was going to vomit up his heart.

“Someone was up late,” Liam teases. He gestures at Louis’ notebook. “Write anything good?”

Louis freezes, scrambling to shut the notebook where it had fallen open. He’s thinking of the sprawling, mostly nonsensical bullshit he’d scribbled out the night before. Pages of rambling, trying to make sense of the sudden attack on all of his senses. Trying to make sense of the sharp thing that’s lodged itself in his chest that twists at every thought of Nick. Louis’ sure that, if he were to read back, it would all be horribly embarrassing.

Louis laughs nervously. “No, just some bullshit. Nothing worth using.” Then he grabs the notebook and stretches his hands over his head, moving past them towards his bunk. He can feel Liam’s gaze at his back and he grips the notebook close to his chest. Since they started writing together, Liam and Louis have maintained a policy of full disclosure. No matter how shitty the song or indecipherable the grammar, they show each other everything. Once, Liam had drunkenly wrote a song about fried chicken and it had nearly gone on the album.

Louis doesn’t really know why he’s breaking this rule now, why he’s not telling Liam about the bare bones beginning of a song he had scribbled in the dead of night while Nick had rambled in his ear about nothing. He supposes he’s just not ready to disclose his big ugly crush on Nick Grimshaw with the boys.

It’s not that they don’t know Louis sometimes tends to stray toward dick, it just that it doesn’t happen that often.

“Lou only likes dick in the light of the full moon,” Zayn said once. “He’s, like, weregay.”

“I should probably resent that,” Louis had replied, “if I wasn’t inclined to go out hunting for men in the dead of night. ‘snot my fault I tend to lean towards girls. They’ve got tits.”

“You could say,” Harry chimed in, “that you suffer a case of _bicanthropy_.” To which Zayn and Louis replied by kicking him off of Bus 1.

Louis supposes it isn’t so much an “I’m accidentally in love with a boy” thing as much as it’s an “I’m accidentally in love with Radio 1 DJ and mutual friend Nick Grimshaw” thing. He hadn’t even _liked_ the guy this time last year, how was he expected to admit he was _in love_ with the asshole now?

Or at least, he’s _pretty sure_ he’s in love. Louis’ never before been hit by feelings this hard for just a crush. He hadn’t quite felt this overwhelmed and out of control for someone since he was maybe the better part of a year into his relationship with Eleanor.

And he guesses that’s a bit of a relief he thinks, half-heartedly flipping through his writing in the safety of his bunk. This means he’s over Eleanor, or at least as over as he could ever be. Their breakup had been bittersweet. She had graduated from uni and was working on making a new life for herself, and Louis’ life was already made, scheduled, and planned for years to come. They still loved each other, but there was no longer any room in their lives for their relationship.

He hadn’t wanted to break up, but in the end it was the best thing for both of them. They still talked occasionally, but she was busy with her new internship, and he was busy touring, as always. It had still taken him a while to learn to stand on his own two feet again, to get used to the absence next to him, in his bed, at the end of the phone line. He’d had four boys ready and willing to cheer him up and make sure he never got lonely, but it wasn’t the same. Louis isn’t really sure when he stopped feeling that emptiness and started feeling like an actual person again, but now he’s wondering if it had anything to do with meticulously hanging porn on Harry’s wall half a year before, with Nick.

His phone is dead after falling asleep with his radio app open, so he throws it down to his feet and roots around for his laptop. He finds a pair of Niall’s sunglasses, a paddleball, and a magnet that says “ _Don’t mess with Texas!_ ” before he finally unearths the thing, setting it on his stomach and booting it up. He loses himself in the internet for a while, answering emails and watching the stupid youtube videos that Stan keeps sending him, while listening to the rest of the bus slowly wake up around him.

After about an hour, there’s a knock at the side of his bunk. _Shave and a haircut_. He opens the curtain to find Niall grinning in at him, hair wild and eyes still puffy with sleep. Niall knocks out “ _two bits_ ” and says “Up for some brekkie? Sarah says she’ll fix something up.” And Louis slides down from his bunk, ready to greet the day.

Niall’s a good distraction, he’s the most willing of them to do nothing but laze about all day, playing Fifa and shoving food down their mouths. The rest of the boys pass through, shaking their heads at the blatant display of laziness, but it’s exactly what Louis needed. A day of mindlessness, there's nothing like video games to take your mind off of emotional turmoil.

And if he’s been a bit quiet the entire day, Niall doesn’t mention it. Louis decides that, if he asks, Louis will just tell him he’s tired or something, blame it on the late night before.

Niall doesn’t ask, though, only stops Louis when he’s about to grab his phone from where he’s left it to charge before heading off to soundcheck. “Hey, you know you could tell me anything, right?” he tells Louis, hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Any of us. We’ll listen.”

Louis thinks about his cramped handwriting, the lines of text and the tight feeling in his chest, and nods. Niall pulls him into a hug, laughing and kissing Louis on the temple before running off to god knows where, and Louis finds himself smiling despite himself.

He unplugs his phone, fully charged, and checks his messages on the way to the venue, grinning helplessly down at a series of messages from Nick about how Nick had come home to discover that Bruce and Pig had teamed up to knock over his garbage and spread trash all over the house.

“And what are _you_ smiling at?” Zayn asks, sitting next to Louis in the van. He looks sleepy, someone probably woke him from a nap for the drive.

“Nothing,” Louis says, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder and ignoring the tightness in his chest. “Your face.”

“You’re hilarious,” Zayn says, poking him in the cheek, and then they’re being bundled out and off to work.

Later, on stage with his best friends in the world, in front of a thousand people all singing his words, Louis takes a breath and pushes back the weight of his love for Nick, surrounding himself with their combined voices.

 

*

 

The first song Louis wrote about Nick was actually written months before tour even started.

Louis and Liam had spent the night before writing, throwing around stupid ideas and half-assedly composing melodies until sunlight started peeking through Louis’ curtains. Louis had sent Liam lumbering off into the guest room before throwing himself face first onto his bed, almost asleep before he even landed.

It was the best part about breaks, long nights doing what he loved with people he loved, with endless time the next day to sleep in. Or at least, that’s what he had anticipated, only for his phone to wake him up, chiming with what sounded like approximately forty billion messages.

Louis groaned, digging his face into the mattress, and scrambled around in his sleep, trying to find his noisy phone and _destroy_ it. Once he found it, though, he reconsidered. That phone contained endless blackmail material on the rest of the boys, and a second glance at the screen showed that it was, in fact, two o’clock in the afternoon.

He slid his finger across the screen to unlock it, grimacing at the brightness before he was able to focus and read his messages.

There were a couple from Lottie, and a worrying string of exclamation points from Harry all the way in LA, but the onslaught that had woken him was entirely from Nick.

“ _Louis! you home?”_

“ _Louis”_

“ _Louis, it’s important!”_

“ _Louiiiiiiis”_

After that, there was just a stream of messages, all containing the aubergine emoji. Louis tapped out an answer.

“ _is this some kind of mid afternoon bootycall ?”_

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

“ _You wish. Are you home? I’ve got something for you.”_ Louis stared at the cheeky emoji tacked onto the end of the message suspiciously.

“ _yeah. what is it ?_ ”

“ _Oh good_ ” Nick sent back, and then there was a series of sharp raps on Louis’ front door.

Louis groaned, pulling himself off of his bed. He hadn’t bothered changing from his clothes the night before, answering the door in nothing but a pair of loose-fitting trackies and woolly socks.

“My present,” he demanded, hand out towards Nick on the doorstep. Nick looked pretty good, obviously having woken up long before Louis. He smiled cheekily at Louis.

“Well, I don’t _actually_ have--”

Louis tried to close the door on him, but Nick was too fast, leaning his shoulder against the door and shoving his way in.

“I’m calling the police,” Louis said, yawning and walking back towards his kitchen to make himself a cup of tea and leaving Nick to sort himself out. It wasn’t the first time Nick had been to Louis’ house, or even the fifth. He hadn’t really dropped by without warning, though. “Tea?” Louis asked.

Nick wrinkled his nose at him, turning the corner into Louis’ kitchen. “Eugh,” he said, “no thank you.” Louis rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know why I let you into my house,” Louis said, before turning around an leaning back against his counter. “So, if you don’t have a present for me,” he trailed off, raising an eyebrow expectantly at Nick.

“Excuse me,” Nick said, “why should I have to bring gifts to visit a friend?”

“I’m going to make a rule,” Louis said, grabbing his mug and walking out of the kitchen and toward the living room. “Everyone who wants to come into my house has to pay a toll. A toll of one present for me.”

“My presence is a present,” Nick said matter-of-factly. “ _I’m living in the future, so the present is my past._ ”

“Anyone who doesn’t pay the toll will have Bruce set on them,” Louis continued, ignoring Nick. At the sound of his name, Bruce perked up. He’d been sleeping on top of the empty pizza box Liam and Louis had left on the floor, even though he had a perfectly good - and expensive - dog bed in the corner. When he saw Nick, he let out a happy little huff and trotted over for a head scratch.

“Of course,” Nick said, “the very essence of danger, this dog is. A regular _Cujo_.” He looked up at the detritus of instruments and papers thrown around the room. “Am I interrupting some important popstar business?” he asked.

Louis shook his head. “Naw. ‘sall from Last night. Actually, Payno should be around here somewhere.” He made to tidy up a little, but gave up quickly, shoving a pile of notebooks off of the couch and plopping down onto it, pulling his keyboard up into his lap. Nick carefully gathered the things they’d thrown on the armchair into a pile, then promptly knocked it all onto the floor and sat down. Honestly, Louis will never understand why it took so long for them to become friends.

Bruce rested his chin on Nick’s knee for a while, getting his ears scratched, before padding off back to his pizza box. Honestly, he was going to be devastated whenever Louis got around to throwing that away. Louis switched on his keyboard then, plucking out a little melody for Bruce to walk to.

Louis had a music room, honest to god he did. It had a baby grand, and soundproof walls, and it had cost rather a lot of money to get it all installed, but more often than not, him and Liam ended up dragging all their stuff into Louis’ living room, tinkering around on Louis’ keyboard or on Garageband (and occasionally Liam’s guitar, until they ended up texting Niall so many times about how to play it that Niall would just come over, his own guitar in tow).

“Can you like, properly play the piano?” Nick asked, kicking his feet up on Louis’ empty beer bottle covered coffee table.

“‘Course,” Louis said, and started pottering out _Chopsticks_.

Nick laughed. “Right,” he said. “Play me a song, then. Wait, no,” he paused, “ _write_ me a song. Write a song about me. Right now. Chop chop.”

Louis scoffed. “It’s a lot harder than that, mate,” he said, but he got to playing out a little melody anyway. “What would I even say about you?”

“Write a song about how great I am,” Nick said. “About how good my hair looks, and how I bring all the boys to the yard.”

“Nick…” Louis sang softly, pressing the tips of his fingers down on a chord, “is a dick.”

“Oi,” Nick said, but he was grinning.

“Nick is a _diiiiick_ ,” Louis sang, voice getting a bit stronger. “He’s got a small prick. He makes me sick.” He played an intricate little series of notes, ending with a flourish. “ _Nick is a diiiiick_.”

Nick clapped sarcastically when he was done, and Louis gave a small bow. “That’s about to be One Direction’s next big single, I reckon,” Nick said. “Number one in the charts.”

“Absolutely,” Louis said. “Well give the chorus to Zayn, let him loose with them fancy riffs.” Louis pressed down on the keys again, singing out _“diiiiick_ ” and throwing in some ridiculous wobbly noises.

“I will personally make sure it is played every five minutes on Radio 1,” Nick said. “Use my powers for good.”

“Mmhm,” Louis hummed noncommittally. They fell into comfortable silence after that, Louis occasionally playing out the simple melody of _Nick is a Dick_ on his keyboard.

“I’ve always wanted someone to write a song about me,” Nick said. “Like a proper romantic song. Ever since I was a kid.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Louis snorted. “You’re so _gay_ ,” he said, startling a laugh out of Nick.

“Says the guy singing about my prick.”

“ _Niiiiick_ ,” Louis sang softly, “really likes _diiiiick_.”

Nick laughed, and they fell into silence again. After a while, Louis started humming quietly, messing about with his keyboard, before Nick interrupted him.

“Hey,” he said, reclining in Louis’ armchair. “Sing me a song.”

“Um, excuse me,” Louis said, “but have I or have I not been singing you our future triple platinum single.”

“Not that,” Nick said, rolling his eyes. “Like, an actual song. “You have a nice voice.”

Louis looked down at the black and white keys in his lap, blushing. It was one thing singing that little jingle for Nick, and imitating Zayn, but he didn’t really know if he could sing properly by himself anymore. People generally didn’t want that from him.

“Well,” Nick said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “What are you waiting for, popstar?”

He snapped his fingers, and it surprised a little laugh out of Louis. “I’ll have you know, people usually pay hundreds of pounds to hear me sing,” Louis said, before looking back down at the keyboard. He took a deep breath, and started to play.

He played _Teenage Dirtbag_ , only because it was easy, and he’d literally sung it hundreds of times. He muddled through the other boys’ solos, playing the song a bit slowly so he wouldn’t mess up, until he finally got to his own part, singing a bit louder, a little more confident.

He could feel Nick looking at him, and he could feel his cheeks heating up, but he played on. Quietly he admitted to himself that, for the first time ever probably, he felt a bit alright, singing alone in front of someone. It didn’t feel as awful and nerve-wracking as it usually did. He couldn’t tell if it was just because this performance was a one-off, a joke, or if it was because of Nick, and how it had sounded like he meant it when he said Louis’s voice was lovely.

“ _Why does she give a damn about me?_ ” he sang, trailing off, only for a voice to surprise him from behind.

“ _I’ve got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby,”_ Liam sang, falsetto crystal clear and perfect even though it was obvious that he had just woken up. “ _Come with me Friday, don’t say maybe._ ” He plopped down next to Louis on the couch, giving him a look like he expected Louis to continue playing, but Louis could no longer bring himself to press down on the keys. Liam shrugged. “Hiya, Grimmy,” he said, waving lazily.

“Hello, Liam Payne,” Nick said, smiling. “You sounded amazing, the both of you.”

Liam grinned at Nick, grateful, but Louis still couldn’t bring himself to look up from the keyboard. It was probably good that Liam had jumped in when he did, because there was no way Louis could have hit those notes. Especially not after just waking up. Right after Louis woke up, his voice tended to sound like a squeaky wheel. Liam and Nick continued to talk, rambling about covers and how Liam would like for them to do another on their upcoming tour, but how it was also really great to rely only on these songs that they’d worked so hard to write. Even when they aren’t being interviewed, Liam sometimes sounds like he’s being interviewed.

Louis sighed and leaned back against the couch, hands still poised over the keys, until there was a loud discordant noise and Louis looked down to see Bruce standing up in front of him, paws sitting heavily on the keyboard. Louis smiled down at him and rubbed his ears.

“Looks like music runs in the family,” Nick said, and Louis looked up to see that Nick was smiling at him.

“My dog is an artist,” Louis said, and looked back at Bruce. “Going to be featured on the next album, aren’t you, boy?” Bruce woofed at him, and they all laughed. Then Liam stood up, stretching.

“I really should be getting back home,” Liam said. “The missus will be wondering where I’m at.”

They exchanged their goodbyes, and then it was just Nick, Louis, and Bruce again. “So,” Nick said, “Kardashians?”

Louis snorted, but carefully sat his keyboard down so he could root around for the TV remote. Then he settled back for an afternoon of bad television.

He didn’t pick up the keyboard again that day, or any other days. It was the first time Louis ever wrote a song for Nick, but it was also the last time Louis ever sang one for him.

 

*

 

About a week later, and Louis’ in the recording van with Liam and Julian in the middle of the night, listening to Liam sing the same two lines over and over again. 

Louis’ given up on trying to figure out what’s wrong with it, secretly thinks they should hand them over to Zayn to work his magic, but Liam is stubborn as anything, and is determined to work out the issue. Louis’ pretty sure Julian is in the same boat as Louis and is just messing with Liam at this point.

Louis’ curled in a corner, notebook on his knees and one end of a pen between his teeth. There’s been little to no improvement on the Get Over Nick Grimshaw front, and he’s decided the only way to work passed his feelings is to sort them out in his writing. It’s what Jamie’s always telling them, had told Liam all those years ago when he was trying to get over Danielle and it was affecting his singing. It had always worked for Louis before.

Louis hasn’t told Liam about The Song yet, and Louis would feel bad about it if he also wasn’t horribly embarrassed.

When Louis wrote what eventually became _Strong_ , missing Eleanor and and so in love, he’d been proud to share it. He’d wanted to round up every person who’d ever doubted their relationship, every person who claimed he wasn’t happy with her, and shove the song in their face. He supposes he’s doing that now, singing it to thousands of people every night, though it’s a bit too late.

This song is different, though. Maybe it’s because back then Eleanor was with him, was there for him. When he’d first played a demo of the song for her over skype, with Liam singing because he’d been too nervous to sing it himself, she had smiled, slow and brilliant, and it was one of the best moments of Louis’ life.

Thinking of showing this song to _anyone_ , let alone Nick, absolutely terrifies Louis. With Eleanor, his love had been everywhere, shining out his eyes and coating his skin. Writing this song is like reaching inside of him and clawing bits out and smashing them across the pages. Imagining Nick hearing this song leaves Louis feeling like he can’t breathe.

It doesn’t even make sense, because this feeling isn’t him and Nick at all. When Louis is with Nick they’re all laughter and mischief and comfort. Louis has never felt so at ease with a person before. It scares him.

In the booth, Liam huffs, dropping his headphones down around his neck and pouting at Julian, who cracks up laughing. Louis decides then that he’s had enough. “Well, gentlemen, if you won’t be needing me I’m going to bed,” he says, standing up. Liam frowns at him from the booth, gives him puppy eyes, but Louis isn’t having any of it. He makes his way out the van and into the night air, toward the bus.

They’re parked somewhere in the western United States. Louis never has any fucking clue where they are. It’s the desert, and during the day the heat had been unbearable, but at night it’s a bit cooler. The moon is so bright in the sky that Louis can see everything clear as day. He’s about to get on the bus when his phone chimes in his pocket, and he peeks at the screen to see who it is.

Nick’s sent him a picture, blurry and bright from his phone’s camera flash. Louis can barely make out Bruce sprawled over what must be Nick’s chest, squinting blearily at the camera. “ _heavy_ ” is the message accompanying it, along with a hundred seemingly random emojis. Louis does the math in his head and figures Nick must be up to get ready for work before he texts him back.

“ _kick him out. youre spoiling him !”_

A barrage of even more emojis.

Louis sighs, and he knows there’s no way this is a good idea, that it’s late and he’s spent all night taking an ice cream scoop to his heart trying to write The Song, but he calls anyway. Nick picks up almost immediately.

“And what are you doing up at this hour, Mr. Tomlinson?” Nick asks, voice croaky with sleep. Louis can hear the sound of Nick’s bedsheets rustling, like Nick hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet, and Louis closes his eyes against the image, his heart flopping about in his chest like a fish.

“Was working,” Louis says. “I’m very dedicated, you know.”

“Right,” Nick says, “churning out them number ones. You manage to get _Nick Is A Dick_ onto the album yet?”

“Not quite yet,” Louis says, leaning against the side of the bus. “Might get it on the b-sides, yet.”

Nick hums. “I suppose that’ll do. Where are you lot, anyway? What time is it there?”

“Uh,” Louis says, looking up at the sky like he could trace their location in the stars. “I think we were in New Mexico yesterday?”

“ _Ay caramba,_ ” Nick says, and Louis hears him sit up, the mattress springs creaking as he stands. “New Mexico. Them Americans are rubbish at naming things, aren’t they? New York, New Mexico, New Jersey.”

“New England,” Louis says. “Though I think that’s like, a couple states.”

“What’s so wrong with the old England that they had to go get a new one?” There’s movement on the other end of the phone, and the next time Nick talks he sounds further away. He must have put Louis on speakerphone. “You never answered my question about the time.”

Louis shrugs, then says, “Dunno. Late, I suppose.”

“You need to be getting rest,” Nick says, and Louis hears him turn the tap. “Got to keep up your energy to prance around that giant stage of yours. I’ve seen pictures.”

“Looking us up then, are you, Grimshaw? Did you read about it on Tumblr?”

“Harry sent me pictures,” Nick says, and it sounds like he’s got something in his mouth. A toothbrush? “Something you never do, by the way. I miss your ugly mug. At least post something on Instagram.”

“I'm not really one for selfies,” Louis says, but he’s blushing. “Anyway, what’s the show got on? Anyone good?”

Nick hums thoughtfully. “We’ve got Sam Smith in later for Call or Delete, which should be good. He’s a laugh.” The tap goes again, and he hears the sound of Nick spitting.

“ _Love_ Call or Delete,” Louis says. “Last week’s was brilliant.”

There’s a long pause. “We should get you in sometime,” Nick says after a while, “if we can figure out the security.” He pauses again before saying, “You were listening?”

Louis realizes his mistake then, and his cheeks heat up. “Yeah,” Louis says, getting himself together. “I’m a man of many secrets, Grimshaw, and I’m always watching.”

Nick laughs a bit, but it sounds - nervous? “Of course you are. Let me know when you listen, I’ll give you a shoutout. I like knowing when my mates are locked in.”

Louis bites his lip, not quite sure if he wants to give away just how much he listens in. “Will do,” he says, before yawning.

“Right,” Nick says sternly. “You should be asleep. Thanks for giving me listeners, but I don’t need it from overworked popstars halfway round the world.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Louis says, but his eyes are drooping. He doesn’t want to stop talking to Nick.

“Off to bed,” Nick says. “I’ve got to get dressed anyway, car’ll be here any minute.”

“Alright, alright,” Louis says grumpily. “If you want me gone that much.” There’s another pause that has Louis worrying. It had been a joke, but it hit a bit closer to home than Louis preferred.

“Of course not,” Nick says, oddly sincere for a man whose every other sentence is a joke. “I love talking to you, Louis. Just not when you should be getting some sleep.”

Louis’ heart does another backflip and he ducks his head. “Yeah, same,” he admits quietly. “About talking to you, I mean. We should do it more often.”

“Text me,” Nick says. “After you’ve gotten some sleep. We’ll compare calendars, set up a skype date.”

Louis pretends the last word doesn’t completely explode his brain. “Right, yeah,” he says, breathless.

“You can drag Harry into it,” Nick says then, quickly, and Louis deflates. “He’s always bothering me about how we hardly talk.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll let him know.” He plans to do no such thing.

“Great,” Nick says, and Louis can hear the grin in his voice. “We’ll set it up. I’ve got to go now, though, the car’s just texted.”

“Right, yeah,” Louis says, pushing himself up off of the bus. His bones feel like they way a million tons. “Have a good show.”

“Thanks,” Nick says. “Goodnight, Lou.”

“Good morning, Nick,” Louis says, and Nick laughs as he hangs up. Louis lingers outside for a minute, replaying Nick’s voice, his laugh, in his head for a moment, before turning around and climbing on to the bus.

It takes him hours to fall asleep. He writes his song.

 

*

 

“So there’s Cyclops, that asshole. He has like, laser beam eyes? Kinda?” Louis said, staring down at his feet as he walked. He wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying, just sort of rambling. “Only they’re shit because, like, he can’t control them. They’re just always shooting lasers. He’s got to wear these douchey glasses to stop them." 

“Mhm.”

“And like, there’s Wolverine, of course. Knives in his hands. But his main power is that he can heal like, he’s got super healing. So like when these guys filed his bones with metal he didn’t die, because his body is always healing.”

“I interviewed Hugh Jackman once. It was for like, a different movie though. Haven’t seen those movies.”

“Those movies are complete bullshit. Like, in that last one he can’t even heal anymore. He’s full of metal! You take that away and he’s just like, really heavy. Zayn told me that he doesn’t have it in the comics anymore either, though.”

“Right,” Nick stopped abruptly. Louis stumbled a bit, looking back at him. “You realize I don’t care, right?”

Louis rolled his eyes. The thing about hanging out with Nick was that, when it came to their interests, they had nothing in common. It was well and good to sit around at each other’s houses doing nothing, but when it came to actually doing things, they were awful. Nick liked posh clubs and restaurants, while Louis, if forced to leave the house, preferred a nice pub or a footie match. Nick had come over to Louis’ earlier that day, but had quickly become bored of just sitting around, and demanded they go out.

They fought about what they’d do for a solid hour. Nick doesn’t like movies, Louis hates fancy restaurants, Nick has never had the urge to play football in his entire life, Louis rather peel off his own toenails than go scarf shopping.

They’d settled, eventually, on a walk in the park with their dogs. It was a nice day, and Louis could run around and play with the dogs to work off his excess energy, and Nick could lie about in the spring sunshine.

“Of course you don’t,” Louis said. “You don’t actually care about anything that’s _interesting_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick said, before moving along, “because the interpersonal relationships of superheroes is _so_ interesting.”

“They _are_. _X-men_ has like, lots of metaphors and shit. Zayn said.”

Nick sighed and sat on a bench. Pig kept walking before realizing and looking back at Nick, betrayed. Louis sat down next to Nick and groaned, pushing Bruce back when he tried to jump up on Louis’ lap. Pig immediately pounced on Bruce after that, biting at his ears.

“I interviewed James Mcavoy before,” Nick said conversationally.

“I played a football game with him,” Louis said. “You’re not _special_.”

Nick groaned. “What is _wrong_ with you, today? You’ve been fidgety and argumentative all day.”

“Fuck off, I haven’t,” Louis said. Nick threw up his hands.

“See!” he said. “You’ve been disagreeing with _everything_ I’ve said all day, and you’ve been snippy and awful. I’m not just going to sit here and deal with it.”

“Well sorry, your highness. Next time I’ll be sure to go along with everything you say and never question anything.”

“That’s not the point!” Nick yelled, and then sighed, running a hand down his face. “Look, obviously something is bothering you, and that’s fine, but I’m not going to just sit here and let you treat me like shit.” He stood up, brushing himself off and reaching over to grab Bruce’s lead. Louis put his face in his hands, groaning.

“Look, Nick, I’m so--”

“No,” Nick said, waving Louis off. “I’m going to take Pig and Bruce and let them run around for a bit, throw some things for them to fetch and all that, and you’re going to get yourself together and stop acting like a dick, okay?” And then he was gone before Louis could respond.

Nick didn’t go far, just enough to give Louis a bit of space, and for that Louis was grateful. He hadn’t realized just how shitty of a mood he was in, just now snippy he was being. It was a bad habit of his, taking things out on the people around him. The other boys tended to try and smother him with comfort and hugs whenever he got like that, which was usually not very helpful. It just made Louis feel bad, which made everything worse.

From where he was sitting, Louis could see Nick with the dogs. He had pulled a tennis ball out of his coat pocket and was throwing it for them to chase. He was in awful form, almost overbalancing with every throw and tipping over. Pig still lost her shit every time, basically tripping over herself running after it. Bruce tried to run with her for about five minutes before giving up and laying down nearby.

Louis watched them for a while and it was strangely calming. A couple kids came up to him for autographs, but for the most part Louis was left alone with his thoughts. It did remarkable things for his mood, which was vastly improved by the time Nick dropped back down next to Louis on the bench, panting slightly.

“I can’t keep up,” Nick said, gesturing to Pig, who seemed to be chasing her tail in front of them. Bruce had ambled up after Nick and immediately fallen asleep on Louis’ feet. “I think our dogs were switched at birth.”

Louis snorted, leaning forward to scratch Bruce’s ears. “Speak for yourself, my dog is perfect.” Bruce rolled over almost instantly, exposing his belly for Louis to rub. He was such a good dog.

Pig stopped chasing her tail for a moment, long enough to notice that Louis was giving out belly rubs and march over to demand attention. “Oh okay,” Louis said when Pig nudged at his hand, eyes pleading, “I guess you’re alright too.”

“Damn right,” Nick said. “My dog is amazing.” Then he gave Louis a look, eyebrows raised. “Are you okay now? Not ready to bite my head off, anymore?” 

Louis laughed a little, shrugging. “Not so much,” he said. “Sorry about that. I’m a shit.”

“No,” Nick said, “we all get in our moods. I can be awful, proper diva behavior.”

“ _That’s_ not surprising,” Louis said. “I’m still sorry, though.”

“Apology accepted,” Nick said. “Now, why were you being terrible in the first place?”

Louis ducked his head, focusing on rubbing Bruce’s belly. “I don’t know, it’s dumb.”

“It’s never dumb,” Nick said. “But if you don’t want to tell me it’s fine.”

“No, it’s just--” Louis stopped, running his hands through his hair and mucking it up. “It’s just like, I should know better.”

“Okay?” Nick said, and reached over to brush Louis’ hair back down.

“It’s like, my ex-girlfriend.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Nick said, leaning back and clasping his hands over his lap. “I see.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Louis said, sighing. “She just, she gets a lot of shit, still. From our fans.”

“Even though you’re not dating?”

“ _Especially_ since we’re not dating.” Louis groaned and leaned over his knees, hands on his head. “They act like, fucking _smug_ about it. Like they’re happy about it. It’s fucking awful.” He clenched his fists. “Today they were trending something awful on twitter, calling her names, and I got _so angry_.”

“Did you tweet anything?” Nick asked, putting a hand on the back of Louis’ neck.

“No, what’s the point? It never changes any of their minds.”

“That’s probably true,” Nick said. “I would have been awful too. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Louis said. “You helped a lot. Sometimes I need someone to call me out when I’m being shit.”

“You’re _always_ shit,” Nick said. “But today you get a pass because it’s because other people are being shit. Your fans can be lethal.”

Louis gave him a long look, before sitting back. “Do they still send you stuff? Like, because of me? And Harry?”

Nick didn’t say anything, but the way he averted his eyes spoke volumes. Louis knew more than anything that he or any of the other boys wouldn't be anywhere without the support and loyalty of their fans, and he appreciated all of them, but he would highly appreciate if they would leave his friends and family alone forever.

Louis had been surprised, back when they’d started hanging out, at how willing Nick was to be seen out with him. They hadn’t exactly had the most amicable public relationship beforehand, and when Louis thought back to the shitty things he’d said on twitter, the things he’d let the fans say, Louis felt sick to his stomach. Once him and Nick had started being seen together regularly, the fandom blew up with conspiracy theories and arguments.

Some of them thought Nick and Louis were spending time together for Harry, that Harry had enough of their feud and pleaded for them to get along for their relationship’s sake (both for Harry and Nick’s relationship and Harry and Louis’). Some of them thought Louis hanging out with Nick was some sort of stepping stone towards Louis coming out as gay, which was both uncomfortable and absolutely ridiculous.

One day, Nick had laughingly pulled up a small group of fans on the internet that were completely ecstatic over their friendship, and had been wanting it all along. Louis wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but at least some people weren’t just bombarding Nick with hate over it. 

There were bound to be pictures from that day, even, walking their dogs in the park. Louis lifted a hand to smooth down his messy hair.

“I don’t mind it, most of the time,” Nick said after a moment, still not looking at Louis. “Sometimes they say some really terrible things, but I try not to look, you know? Most of the time they’re just begging me to confirm whether or not you and Harry are fucking.”

Louis scoffed. “You don’t have to lie to me, Nick. I’m,” he paused, taking a breath, “I’m _sorry_. I don’t know how to make them stop. I would if I knew.”

“I’m not lying,” Nick said fiercely. “You’re my friend. I don’t just drop people when things get hard. I’m a keeper, me. Once you’re my friend, that’s it.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I really like you, Louis,” he said. He still wasn’t looking at Louis. Louis wished he would look at him. “Honestly. I’m not going to let some randoms on the internet change that.”

“Okay,” Louis said after a moment. “Alright. I,” he bit his lip, staring intently at the side of Nick’s face, “I guess you’re _okay_.”

Nick laughed loudly, throwing his head back, then grinned over at Louis. “Some friend you are,” Nick said, and Louis couldn’t help but grin back. He felt full, almost, like he swallowed Nick’s words “ _I really like you, Louis_ ”, and they warmed him up from the inside. Nick stood up then, brushing himself off and looping Pig’s lead around his wrist. “Anyway, I’m starved. That’s enough physical exercise for me for at least a _week_. My personal trainer will have to accept that.”

“Oh, your _personal trainer_ ,” Louis said, standing and starting the ordeal that was getting Bruce to move once he’s laid down. “How posh.”

“I know for a _fact_ that you lot have a personal trainer you lug around with you on your world tour,” Nick said, wagging a finger at Louis. “So don’t even say anything. Also, McKenzie is a friend, he’d have to be to deal with me as a trainee.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis said, before looping an arm through Nick’s, “I don’t associate with that man. He’s a demon.”

“Lazy sod,” Nick said, and began their usual argument over where and what to eat.

 

*

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you lately?” Zayn snaps, taking a step toward where Louis is standing defiantly in the small space between their bunks.

“Zayn, calm down,” Niall groans from inside his bunk.

“No, he’s been treating us like shit for _weeks_ now,” Zayn says. “I want to know what your problem is, Louis.”

“I’m not the one going through other people’s stuff, Zayn,” Louis says. “Stay out of my bunk.”

“I was looking for _my_ beanie.” Zayn waves the hat in Louis’ face. “Don’t steal shit if you don’t want us to do the same!”

“What’s going on?” Liam asks, sleepily poking his head around the curtain of his bunk. “Zayn? Tommo?”

“Nothing,” Zayn bites out. “Lou’s just being a dick and yelled at me for no reason.”

“Fuck _off_ , Zayn,” Louis says, frustrated. “Can’t I ask for even a _little_ privacy? Just don’t touch my shit!”

Zayn looks like he’s about to go off again, but Liam intervenes. “Okay, I think everyone needs some time to calm down. Come on, Lou.” He swings his legs out and stands, grabbing Louis’ arm. “It’s been a long day.”

Louis shrugs him off roughly, glaring at Zayn, and turns to root around in his blankets. Liam keeps tugging at his shirt until he finds what he’s looking for, pulling his notebook out and tucking it under his arm. Liam starts to pull him away again, and Louis lets him, while Niall tugs Zayn back into his own bunk for a cuddle.

Louis lets Liam guide him to the back of the bus to collapse on the couch, pulling Louis to his side. He doesn’t say anything, which is how Louis knows he’s upset. Liam _hates_ fights.

Louis sighs. “Alright,” he says. “Go ahead.”

“You’re not sleeping,” Liam says quickly. “I know you aren’t. And you _never_ fight with Zayn, or care when we take your things. Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“ _Something’s wrong_ ,” Liam says. “And we’re all worried about you. Did something happen? At home?” He turns, wide-eyed, to face Louis. “Is it your mum? The babies?”

“No, nothing like that,” Louis huffs. “They’re fine. I’m just. I’m working through some shit right now.”

“You can tell me what it is,” Liam says immediately, hugging Louis back to his chest. “You’re my best friend. I want to help.”

“You _can’t_ help,” Louis says, turning to hide his face against Liam’s chest. “Thanks, but you can’t.”

“I can try,” Liam says, determined. “If you told me, I could try.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and breathes deep. His notebook digs into his stomach, not letting him relax fully. He’s so tired.

“Does it,” Liam starts, then swallows. “Are you, like, writing about it? Is that why you haven’t shown me?”

Louis doesn’t answer, just says “sorry” so low it’s almost too quiet to hear, and sets the notebook behind him, out of reach. Liam nods and hugs Louis tighter. It’s late, and they’d had a show, and Louis can feel his eyelids get heavier, cuddled up to Liam’s side. It’s a relief. Most nights have Louis’ mind racing too much for him to sleep, leaving him tossing and turning until he gives up on sleep altogether, retreating to the back of the bus with his notebook and headphones to write late into the night, Nick’s voice rumbling quietly in his ears.

Louis doesn’t keep quiet about listening to the show to Nick anymore. He’ll text stupid shit during Nick’s opening link to try and distract him, and he’ll keep a running commentary on the music they play, or the guests they have on. He likes the little shoutouts Nick gives him.

“My friend’s just texted in and said he wants Jack Whitehall on the Waking Up Song, but he’s all the way across the world in the Americas. It’s the middle of the bloody night! Go to sleep! This isn’t for you!”

“That was Calvin Harris, and I’d like to inform my friend who’s just texted that I’m not actually the one who picks the music we play on here, that’s lovely Chloe over there, so stop complaining to me when you don’t like a song, please.”

“Oh, my friend’s just texted in calling you a rather sweary name, Finchy. I don’t think he approves of your review of the latest One Direction track.”

The rest of the time, Louis’ only responses are Nick sending angry texts telling him to go to sleep, but Louis appreciates them nonetheless. The rest of Nick’s crew on the show seem to think it’s Harry texting, which was funny at first, but quickly became annoying. Matt Fincham in particular liked to tease Nick about his and Harry’s friendship. It didn’t sit well with Louis, which prompted him to tweet once, after the show. Just a small mention of liking a song they had played, and he’d had fun watching the fans put the pieces together. Matt had followed him after that, and Louis had reveled in not following him back.

Louis knows, lying curled up next to Liam, that he’s missed Nick’s opening link and the theme music Louis finds himself humming sometimes. He wonders if Nick will notice. Liam huffs out a snore then, chest hitching under Louis’ cheek, and Louis smiles softly and lets himself doze off.

Louis wakes up when the bus runs over a pothole, the bump jolting him awake. His bones ache from sleeping upright, and he looks to see Liam’s head tilted over the back of the couch, mouth open, and he knows Liam will be even worse off after acting as Louis’ pillow for several hours.

He gently shakes Liam awake and frog-marches him back towards their bunks. Liam goes easily, still half asleep, and once he’s settled Louis heads back to the couch for his things.

When he checks his phone and does the math he sees that he’s missed Nick’s show, but also that Nick’s texted him.

“ _Missed you during the show today, but glad you’re getting some rest! xx_ ”

Louis stares at the two x’s for a long time, sat back on the couch, before lying down fully and hitting the “call” button.

“Louis Tomlinson!” Nick says happily, before changing his tone. “Wait, it’s still the middle of the night there, isn’t it?”

“‘s almost morning,” Louis says, voice creaky from sleep.

“And why are you awake?” Nick asks. Louis can hear cars in the background and wonders where Nick is exactly. “Important popstar business to attend to?”

“No, just woke up,” Louis says and then, because he’s still half asleep and therefore has no filter, “I missed your dumb voice.”

Nick doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then he laughs. “So you couldn’t wait to call me until _after_ you’d gotten your only good night’s sleep in weeks?”

“Nope,” Louis says, yawning. “How was the show?”

“It was alright, bit uneventful,” Nick says. “I’m just headed off home now. Got telly stuff later, but I thought I’d check in on the dogs.” He stops, and Louis hears a car door open and close. “Look, Louis, are you okay? I thought maybe you were going to actually sleep tonight, but then you called.”

“I can hang up,” Louis says, defensively.

“No, no,” Nick says, “but I’m like, worried about you. You need sleep. Is something wrong?”

Louis swallows, turning so he’s lying facing the back of the couch with his phone pressed tightly to his ear. He wonders for a moment what would happen if he told Nick, if he just let go of this giant secret that was swallowing him whole. He wonders if Nick would let him down easy. “Got in a fight with Zayn earlier,” Louis says, wincing. “Fell asleep with Liam after he tried to make me feel better, but I woke up.”

“Fighting every so often isn’t so bad,” Nick says. “You boys live in each other’s pockets.”

“No, it’s like,” Louis sighs, covering his eyes with his free hand. “I _never_ fight with Zayn. The others, yeah, but Zayn barely ever, and it was my fault.”

“I’m sure Zayn will forgive you,” Nick says. “Just apologize tomorrow, or when he wakes up, I guess. Buy him a gift. You’re rich.”

Louis laughs a little. “I don’t know if it’s that simple,” he says. “I’ve been - I’ve been shit. To all of them. I’m so tired all the time, and I take it out on them.”

Nick hums. “Apologize to all of them, then,” he says. “They love you, and. I’m so shit at this, at like, feelings, and advice, but anyone who spends five minutes with you lot knows those boys would do anything for you.”

Louis sighs again, rolling over to look up at the roof of the bus. “I know,” he says. “I just don’t really deserve it right now, I think.”

“Of course you do,” Nick says. “If being a bit of a dick every once in a while meant your friends would abandon you, I’d have no friends. Or I wouldn’t want those friends, anyway. If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best, and all that.”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know, twitter or something,” Nick says. “The point is, you’re great, and those boys think you’re great, and they want you to be okay.”

“Ugh,” Louis says, flopping over to smash his face into the couch cushion, voice muffled. “Why can’t I just live in a cave? In a mountain.”

“What, like a dragon?”

“Exactly like a dragon,” Louis says, voice still muffled. Nick laughs.

“You definitely need sleep, I think,” he says. “I’ve got to go, but you should think about what I said, and _get some sleep_.”

“When I’m a dragon, you’ll be the first to go,” Louis says. And then, because he can’t help it, “you really think I’m great?”

“I,” Nick says, and it comes out a bit choked, “I. Yeah, I think you are.”

“Oh,” Louis says, “well, I think you’re a bit of alright too.”

“You really know how to flatter a boy,” Nick says. “Bet that gets you all the girls.”

“It’s the X Factor,” Louis says, “I have it.”

“That’s it. Now, go to sleep. You’re halfway to achieving your dream of being a fire-breathing dragon, if what you’re saying about the rest of the boys is true. Talk to them.” Nick pauses, and Louis hears the rumble of an engine starting. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can move past it. Just let them help you for now,and when you get home pop over to mine, we’ll get you fixed.”

Louis bites his lip, chest constricting, and nods. “Yeah, sounds great, Nick. Talk to you later.”

“Bye!” Nick chirps. “Bye, bye, bye, bye, bye.” Louis hangs up the phone still laughing.

A few hours later, he wakes Liam by chucking his notebook into Liam’s bunk, satisfied when he hears a grunt of pain, and climbs up into his cave to hide until soundcheck.

 

*

 

“He doesn’t need any fancy food, or anything,” Louis said, and earned himself a mouthful of fur as Bruce tried to climb up onto Louis’ head. Bruce was a bit big to be carried around, but Louis felt bad, seeing as he was about to leave the dog for more than a month. “But if you leave the food out, he’ll gorge himself, so just try and pick it up every now and then.”

“I’ll just feed him on the same schedule as Pig,” Nick said, bending down to pick up the bag of dog food and toys Louis had brought with him and carrying it back into his kitchen. Louis followed, teetering under the weight of Bruce.

“That’ll be fine, right, boy?” Louis said, trying to lean back to look at Bruce, but he ended up falling backwards. Nick dropped the bag and rushed to steady him, one hand on Louis’ lower back. Bruce immediately lurched forward, out of Louis’ arms and into Nick’s.

“Oof,” Nick said. “Is this what I have to look forward to until you come back?”

“You love it,” Louis said. “He’s the best dog in the world.”

“Well I’m looking forward to my time with the two best dogs in the world,” Nick said, and then set Bruce on the ground. Bruce immediately slumped back against Louis’ feet, looking up at Louis with big, sleepy eyes.

“He doesn’t do much, just sleeps a lot, really,” Louis said. “He’ll want to lay on top of you all the time, but you could just push him off. It’s what I do.” He crouched to rub at Bruce’s head, grinning at the satisfied grunt Bruce made at the feeling. Dimly, he heard a car horn honking. “Shit, I gotta go.”

“He’ll be just fine, you know Pig loves terrorizing him.” Nick crouched down as well, and they both rubbed at Bruce’s belly for a moment.

“Thank you for watching him, Nick, really,” Louis said. “I know you’ll take care of him.”

“It’s no problem, really. My friends look after Pig for me all the time,” Nick said. “Have fun skipping around for teenagers.” Louis laughed, and Nick grinned at him. They stood up then, and Nick floundered a bit, looking at Louis puzzlingly before he held out a hand. Louis looked at it, then at Nick, with a disbelieving expression on his face, before grabbing Nick’s hand and tugging him into a hug, Bruce trapped between their legs.

Nick flapped his arms around uselessly, before settling them around Louis’ shoulders, hugging him tightly. Louis was affectionate with his friends, always had been and he knew Nick was surprised by that fact when they’d first started hanging out. There was another honk from outside, and Louis pulled back, looking up into Nick’s eyes. “Text me,” Louis said, but didn’t move to leave.

“Yeah,” Nick said, biting his lip. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just gently pushed Louis back towards the door. “I’ll call you, put Bruce on the phone.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, opening the front door and throwing two fingers at Liam where he sat, head hanging out of the car they’d had pick them up to take them to the airport. “Thanks again!”

“Wait, Lou,” Nick said, and Louis turned back, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Just, uh, good luck?” Louis smiled back at him, nodding his head, before running off and jumping into the car. He waved out the window until he could no longer see Nick, standing in his doorway, before turning back to bother Liam.

 

*

 

“Liam!” Louis yells, laying with his head hanging upside-down off of the green room couch and his legs up against the back of it. “ _Liam_.”

“Is there something you could be doing?” Harry says from the other side of the room where he’s sitting cross-legged across from Niall. Harry’s somehow managed to drag Niall into his weird hippie lifestyle. Last Louis checked, they were _meditating_.

“ _Liaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam,_ ” Louis yells at the top of his lungs, and Niall breaks, bending flopping over onto his side with how hard he’s laughing.

“What is going on?” Zayn says, walking into the green room. Louis waves. He’d apologized earlier that day, muttering and looking everywhere but at Zayn’s face, but Zayn had just pulled him into a hug and said “It’s all good, bro.” Louis still doesn’t think he deserves them, but he’s grateful anyway.

“Where’s Liam?” Louis demands, kicking his legs in the air. “I demand Liam.”

“He’s out in the arena,” Zayn says, “reading or something.” Louis gulps, and does a backflip onto the floor.

“I’m going to go find him,” he says, and Zayn shrugs, immediately taking over the couch, while Harry tries to get Niall to focus on meditating again. Louis’ been antsy and nervous since he gave Liam the notebook that morning, running all over the place and terrorizing everyone he came across. He’s sent Nick a million Whatsapp messages and snapchats until Nick texted him “ _Lou I love you but I’m going to sleep now and if you text me one more time I’m not giving your dog back._ ”

When he finds Liam, he’s sitting in one of the seats in front of the stage that Louis knows are so expensive he feels bad just thinking about it. Liam’s got Louis’ notebook open on one knee, and another notepad balanced on the other. He’s scribbling furiously on the notepad, bottom lip between his teeth, and Louis watches as he stops and shakes his head before ripping the page he’d been writing on and crumpling it. He’s got a litter of crumpled pages scattered around his feet, and when Louis makes it over he nudges one with his foot.

“Um,” Louis says, and Liam looks up from where he was staring at Louis’ notebook and humming slightly.

“Louis!” he says, grabbing the notebooks and standing up. Crumpled pages rain down from his lap. “I was just. Um. Yeah. Your song--”

“Alright, we can’t do this here,” Louis says. He looks down at their feet and crouches down to pile all the balls of paper up in his arms. “We just. Let’s go.” He turns on his heel and marches back where he came from.

“Um, okay,” Liam says, clutching the notebooks. They make it back to the green room, Liam toddling after Louis like a duckling, and Louis dumps the pile of papers onto the floor in the general vicinity of his things.

“ _No one_ _read those_ ,” Louis says. “In fact, Niall.” Niall looks up from where he was trying not to doze off meditating. “Burn them.”

“I’m on it,” Niall says, and Louis nods before grabbing Liam’s arm and dragging him back out into the winding halls of the stadium.

They walk for ages, making the odd turn every now and again, until Louis finds a door that actually opens when he jiggles the handle and reveals a staircase. They go up until they reach another door that Louis doesn’t hesitate to push open.

“Uh, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” Liam says, but he’s used to Louis’ antics, even encourages them. They walk out onto the roof of the stadium, looking out over the thousands of cars and people already lined up to attend the One Direction concert later that night.

“Course we aren’t, it’s not fun if it’s _allowed_ ,” Louis says, and then sits, pulling Liam down with him. He stares at Liam expectantly, eyebrow raised, and Liam bites his lip again.

“I was just,” Liam says, setting the notebooks down gingerly between them. “Your song it’s, it’s _really_ good, Louis. But it’s like, missing something, so I was trying to work it out.”

Louis gapes at him, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “That’s _it?_ You’re not going to ask why I didn’t show it to you? You’re not like, going to ask what it’s about? Or like, who? Are you shitting me?”

Liam looks down, cheeks pink, at his notepad. “Uh,” he says, “I know I can be like, a bit thick about these things, but it’s pretty obvious who it’s about, Tommo.”

“Oh,” Louis says, leaning back. “Uh, yeah, I get that.”

“Plus, you like, wrote his name,” Liam says, lifting the book up to Louis’ face and pointing. Louis hits it out of his hands. 

“Don’t _show_ it to me, god. It’s embarrassing enough.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” Liam says, brow furrowing. “Why is it embarrassing? It’s good.”

“God, Liam,” Louis says, putting his face in his hands. “It’s _embarrassing_.”

“Is it because, like, you’re writing about your life? Because like, you’ve done that before. I did it before, with like, Dani, and we’ve got that song about Sophia that Julian’s working on.” Liam frowns, rubbing at Louis’ head and messing up his beanie. “Why is it embarrassing?”

“God,” Louis says again, voice cracking halfway through the word. “I wrote this whole song about this guy I have absolutely no chance with, who thinks we’re just friends. Of _course_ it’s embarrassing, Liam. In what world would it not be embarrassing?”

“Listen, Louis, I’m telling you,” Liam says, putting both hands on the sides of Louis’ head and forcing Louis to look up at him. “It’s _not embarrassing._ It’s,” he stops, looking down at the notebook and back up again, “it’s so good. It’s everything we’ve been wanting in a song. It’s _real_.”

Louis reaches down and grabs the notebook, flipping quickly through the pages and cringing at his handwriting, at the scribbled out lines and the stupid notes in the margins. Liam makes him look up at him again, running a thumb over his temple.

“I swear, Lou, it’s good,” he says, “and, if you’re alright with it, I’d like to help you finish it so we can record a demo. It’s _that_ good.”

Louis looks down again at the pages, shrugging. Back when him and Liam had started writing together, when they made their rules, they’d made each other promise that they would be completely honest about their writing to each other. That, if one didn’t like something, they wouldn’t be afraid to tell the other their actual opinion. Once, Louis had spent an entire weekend at home writing a song, only for Liam to look it over when they met up again and smile sheepishly at him and shake his head. Louis knows Liam has a binder full of songs Louis had vetoed, tucked away to look at and maybe use later. He knows if Liam hadn’t actually liked the song, he would have said so.

“What do you think is wrong with it?” Louis says quietly. “I know I’m shit at like, coming up with melodies.”

“I think this line in the chorus has too many syllables,” Liam says, unquestioning. He points down at the song, big finger almost covering the words. “And I was trying to work on a melody before you came. You would think it should be like, a ballad type of song, but I don’t know if that fits.”

They sit and work together until a security guard finds them, furious, and drags them down to do the show. They’re late, running out just in time for Liam to sing his first verse, and Louis feels lighter than air, the burden of his feelings halved. Halfway through the show, Liam comes up to Louis and throws an arm over Louis’ shoulders and they sing their songs together.

And after that, safe and tucked away in Liam’s bunk, Liam lets Louis talk. He lets Louis try and explain the feeling in his chest, how he can’t sleep, can’t hardly eat.

“It’s like I’m all full up,” he says, curled up at the end of Liam’s bunk with his hand on his chest. “I’m all full up with this, this feeling. There’s no room for anything else. But at the same time, I’m empty. I’m like, hollow until I get to talk to him, to hear him laugh again.”

And if it were anyone else, they might have teased Louis, told him he was watching too many romance movies, listening to too many love songs, but it’s Liam, and he doesn’t. He just lets Louis talk and actually listens. He hugs Louis to him and says that it only hurts when it’s real, and tells Louis it will be alright. They whisper to each other all night, until their bus reaches its next destination, and they step out into the dry desert sunlight.

The next night, Louis sleeps better than he has in weeks.

 

*

 

Louis was drunk. _So_ drunk. The drunkest.

“I’m _drunk_ ,” Louis said, sitting on top of Harry. Harry grunted, but accepted it as his new state of being.

“We _know_ ,” Zayn said. “We can tell. All of us are.” Somewhere in the distance, Niall laughed.

“Is everyone here?” Louis asked. “Where’s Liam? _Liam!_ ”

“He’s in here!” Niall called. “Puking his guts up, poor lad. Let it out, Leem.”

“You know who isn’t here?” Louis said. “Nick. Why isn’t Nick here? Where is Nick Grimshaw?”

“Um, at home? I’m guessing?” Zayn said, turning on the television. Louis looked around, realizing that oh yeah, they were at Zayn’s house.

“He’s got a thing,” Harry said, voice muffled by Louis’ feet. “For like. Radio.”

“How come we weren’t invited to the thing?” Louis said, frowning. “We’re famous. Hey, how come you knew about the thing?”

“Because I listen when other people talk,” Harry said, and then choked when Louis tried to shove his socked foot in his mouth in retaliation.

“I’m gonna call him,” Louis said, shoving his hands in his pockets and frowning when his phone didn’t suddenly appear. “Where’s my phone?”

“You can’t go one night without talking to him?” Zayn said, flipping the channels too rapidly. “That’s adorable.”

“It’s sad,” Harry says. “Or, it would be, if Grimmy wasn’t exactly the same.”

“ _Adorable_.” Zayn stopped on a channel with two people kissing passionately. “Hey, look, it’s Louis and Grimmy,” Zayn said, and him and Harry laughed harder than that joke warranted.

“Very funny,” Louis said, elbowing Harry in the dick in his quest to find his phone. “You lot are just jealous.” 

“Of what? All you two do is argue and do stupid shit like draw mustaches on magazines.” Harry sat up, knocking Louis off of him. “Plus, he’s my friend too.”

“Yeah, but our friendship is _better_ ,” Louis said, face rubbing uncomfortably against Zayn’s carpet. He paused, spotting his phone under Zayn’s couch, and immediately went to grab for it.

“ _Right_ ,” Harry said, patting Louis on the head patronizingly. “You two are so cute.”

“When’s the wedding?” Zayn said, and him and Harry practically pissed themselves laughing. At some point, Harry tried to sing “Louis and Grimmy sitting in a tree” but couldn’t get the words out, he was laughing so hard. Zayn actually rolled off of his armchair.

Louis huffed, and snatched his phone up. “Whatever, I’m going to call him. Later, losers.”

“Bye _Louis Grimshaw_ ,” Zayn said as Louis walked away, and he closed the door to the guest room on their laughter.

Two minutes later, and Nick was on the phone. “Louis!” Nick said, slurring a little. “Lewis. Tomlinson.”

“Are you _drunk_?” Louis asked, scrunching his nose.

“ _Yes_.”

“Oh, me too,” Louis said, throwing himself on the bed. “Where are you?”

“A...place? Club? Some place,” Nick said. “Where are _you_?”

“Zayn’s house,” Louis said.

“Ooh, _Zayn Malik_ ,” Nick said. “Fitty McFit.”

“What?” Louis said. “Whatever, come here.”

“I have no idea where Zayn Malik lives.”

Louis huffed. “Well, find out!” He laid back against the pillows. “It’s boring. Come here.”

“I’m going _home_ after this,” Nick said.

“You’re dead to me.”

“You wound me, Tomlinson. I thought we were friends.”

“We _are_ ,” Louis said, sitting up again and feeling a little dizzy. “I was _saying_ that but they were like ‘Oh, Lou, why don’t you marry him in a tree.’”

“A tree wedding would be hard to pull off.”

“Not the _point_ , Grimshaw,” Louis said, pulling at his hair. “They don’t understand our. Our _bond_.” Nick laughed. “Don’t laugh. We’ve got a bond. A prankster bond.”

“A prankster bond?”

“We hung up porn together, you and I,” Louis said seriously. “Brothers in war.”

“You are _genuinely_ odd,” Nick said. “But I’ll take it.”

“ _Bonded_ ,” Louis said. “Destiny. Now come here.”

“Louis, I like you, but I’m not going to come to Zayn Malik’s house at two am.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because that’s _crazy_ , and we’re both drunk,” Nick said, rather reasonably for someone so intoxicated. “Come over to mine tomorrow, we can be hungover together.”

“Sounds shit,” Louis said. “I’ll be over when I wake up.”

“Good, I’ll make sure all the riff raff are out of my house by then,” Nick said. “Yeah, Aimee, you heard me. _Riff raff_.”

“Who’s with you?” Louis said. “Tell them to go away. Come here.”

“I thought we just cleared this up.”

“I don’t like you spending time with other people when you could be spending time with _me_ ,” Louis said, dropping back down on the bed. He could hear Liam retching in the other room, it was disgusting. “Come to Zayn’s. I’ll send a car.”

“Don’t send a car.”

“I’ve got _tons_ of money. Piles of it. I swim in it. I’ve got a swimming pool of money.”

“ _Pour up, drank_ ,” Nick said, and Louis rolled his eyes.

“I’m sending a car,” Louis said. “Harry’s here. You don’t need the riff raff.”

“Harry’s there?” Nick said, sounding a bit happier about the situation. “Who else is there?”

“Why are you so excited when I say Harry’s here?” Louis said. “What, am I not good enough? I’m not sending a car anymore.”

“You don’t make any sense,” Nick said. “You’re ridiculous. I don’t know why I like you so much.”

“You _love_ me.” Harry walked in then, looking at Louis suspiciously. Louis stuck his tongue out at him. “Admit it.”

The silence after that had Louis worried that Nick had passed out, or something. He could still hear people in the background, laughing and yelling. “Nick?” he said, and Harry walked over and crawled up the bed to sit next to him.

“I, uh,” Nick said. “I think I need my puff puff? I’ll see you tomorrow, Louis.”

“Alright,” Louis said skeptical, and Nick hung up.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked, sprawling over Louis’ stomach.

“Don’t know,” Louis said, patting Harry’s back. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.” He closed his eyes, absentmindedly rubbing Harry’s back. “It’s better when it’s just us, anyway,” he muttered.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Harry giggled, and Louis pinched him, right before passing out.

 

*

 

“Hey, Lou,” Liam says, voice low. They’re in a private room at the airport, bags strewn around them. Zayn’s still asleep, lying on the uncomfortable airport carpet and using one of Liam’s hoodies as a pillow, and Niall and Harry are nodding off in a corner, attempting to meditate.

“Yeah?” Louis says, looking up from his phone. He’d been staring at it, willing it to do something. Things had been busy, with the last week of the tour and everything, but Louis had gotten nothing but radio silence from Nick in that time. It was odd, seeing as Nick was rarely without his phone, and usually had time to send Louis a text or two even when he was really busy.

“About the song,” Liam says, avoiding Louis’ eyes and trailing off. Louis raises an eyebrow at him, but he still doesn’t say anything.

“What about the song?” Louis asks, setting his phone down. Together, him and Liam had managed to work with the song until they came up with something good, something Louis was tentatively proud of. They hadn’t shown any of the other boys yet, or even Jamie or any of the other guys, but they’d recorded a shitty demo of it on Liam’s beat up macbook one night in nowhere, Indiana. It was too late to do anything with it, to fix it up for their next album, but that’s completely fine for Louis. As far as he’s concerned, him and Liam could work on it forever and never finish it, and he’d be happy.

“When we first talked about it, you said that it was about someone you’ll never have a chance with,” Liam says. “Did you really think that?”

Louis looks over to where Niall and Harry are sitting, trying to see if they’re listening in. They haven’t asked about that time Louis hadn’t been sleeping, or about what him and Liam are doing. Once Louis started sleeping better and stopped acting out, they dropped it, relieved. Louis knows Liam must have told them something to prevent them from asking, but Louis knows that hasn’t stopped them from being curious.

“I,” he says, “I, uh. Yeah. I don’t really see how it would ever happen.” He forces himself to not look at his phone. “He’s never -- He’ll never see me like that.”

“But how do you know?” Liam says quickly. “Like, how can you be sure?”

“I’m pretty damn sure, Liam,” Louis says, brow furrowing. “What are you on about?”

“Like, no one thinks they have a chance with the person they like,” Liam says. “Everyone thinks, ‘there’s no way that person would ever like me,’ but a lot of the time that’s not the case.”

“Liam,” Louis says carefully, “what brought this on?” He feels chilled to the bone, like Liam’s just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, like he did for that charity thing. “Liam.”

“Look, I just,” Liam says, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to help. You were better, like, you were sleeping better, and you weren’t as mean, but I could tell you weren’t happy. You’re _not_ happy.” Louis’ hands start to shake.

“Liam,” he whispers, “what did you _do_?”

Liam bites his lip and pulls his email up on his laptop, and Louis forgets how to breathe.

It’s the longest flight of Louis’ life. Once, Louis had flown back home for a day from Australia to surprise his mum for her birthday, and then had to fly back the same night to make it to their show, and not even those flights felt as long as this one does. He’s refusing to speak to Liam, forcing Niall to switch seats so Liam has to sit at the back with Harry, but he isn’t really angry, just completely, awfully, pants-shittingly terrified.

He knows now why Nick hasn’t talked to him in days, and he doesn’t blame him. The song isn’t even _done_ yet, the second verse still sings awkwardly, and they hardly have a melody at all. It’s not even titled. The shitty demo that Liam had emailed was labeled “Draft 1.mp3.”

And, oh god, the demo was even worse, because Liam had insisted that Louis be the one to sing it. “It’s not mine,” Liam had said, headphones around his neck and hunched over his laptop. “It wouldn’t be right if I sang it, right now. It wouldn’t _sound_ right.”

So Louis sang it, low in their hotel room so the boys in the rooms around them wouldn’t hear, fingers pressing lightly at the piano keys. That’s how they’d recorded it, softly, secretly, and Liam just went and exposed everything.

“What’s wrong?” Niall asks, reaching over to place his hand on Louis’ head like he’s checking for fever. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“It’s the plane,” Louis mutters, “I’m getting motion sickness.”

Louis has never gotten motion sickness in the entire four years they’ve been in the band, but Niall, as always, hears the true meaning under Louis’ words and drops it, leaning back in his chair and calling over to Josh, asking if he wants to play cards. There are still hours on the flight, yet.

Louis sighs and moves to grab his laptop out of his backpack, praying watching a movie or listening to music will help him get over his nerves, but once he’s got it open and hooked up to the plane’s wifi, he’s still unable to focus. Nothing holds his attention for long, and after a while he’s so antsy and anxious that he’s about ready to head to the airplane’s emergency exit and throw himself out.

He’s wondering if there’s any parachutes on the plane with them when he notices the time on the world clock he’s got set up on his computer’s desktop, proudly displaying the current time in London. It’s eight thirty in the morning, right in the middle of Nick’s show.

It’s probably a bad idea, _definitely_ a bad idea, but he’s not talked to Nick for days, and it’s possible Liam’s destroyed their friendship completely. Louis can’t bear to think of that, of not being able to talk to Nick ever again. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get Bruce back, maybe he could send Harry.

Against his better judgment, he pulls up the Radio 1 website, loading up the iplayer to listen to Nick’s show.

The first thing he hears is Lorde, and he breathes a sigh of relief. After that is Paramore, which has Louis wrinkling his nose and lowering the volume. He’s complained about that band before to Nick, but Nick refused to stop liking them on behalf of Louis’ band’s sake. The memory almost makes him smile, until he remembers.

Another song plays, and Louis’ just about to give up on listening when Nick comes back on, cheerful as always, and Louis gets sort of pissed over the fact that Nick is nowhere near as stressed as he is about the status of their relationship.

“Right, so that was Lorde, Paramore, and the Arctic Monkeys on this lovely Monday morning--”

“Wait, you’re not going to say it?” Matt says, and Louis wrinkles his nose.

“What?” Nick asks, sounding sort of nervous. “What was I meant to say?”

“You’re always going on about that Paramore record,” Fiona says, “but you haven’t yet. You didn’t all last week, as well.”

“I wasn’t aware I was being _monitored_ at my place of work.”

“Are you finally over it?” Matt asks. “The song? Took you long enough.”

“Given up on getting someone to write a song about you then, Grim?” Fiona teases, and Louis almost laughs. Of _course_ this is what they’re talking about when Louis finally decides to listen in again.

“I, uh,” Nick says. “I think it’s about time for the news now, right, Finchy?”

“We’ve got a couple minutes,” Matt says. “I want to know about this. Are you just done with musicians, then?”

“ _Or_ ,” Fiona says slyly, “have you got someone to write you a song?”

“Ooh, was it bad?” Matt says, “I’m sure that would be bad.”

“No!” Nick says, loud even for him. “No, it’s just. Oh god.”

 “Wait, did someone _actually_ write you a song?”

“And it was _bad_?”

“No! I, ugh, it was. It’s time for the news! Tina! Tina?”

Louis closes the laptop after that, not willing to listen anymore, before packing it away and standing up. When he reaches the back of the plane, Harry’s long gone, off to mess with Lou or hang all over Zayn somewhere else in the plane, but Liam’s there, frowning down at his phone and generally being miserable. He looks up when Louis arrives and immediately stands up, bundling Louis in one of the airplane blankets and sitting him down in Harry’s seat.

“I’m still mad at you,” Louis says sadly, and Liam just nods, pulling him closer. There’s still hours before they land.

 

When Louis finally gets home, and everything is awful.

He’d tried to sleep on the plane after that, huddled up next to Liam, but he was mostly unsuccessful, only drifting off about a half an hour before landing. By the time he’s dropped off at his house, he’s tired and achey, and he wants a cup of tea and his dog, and only certain he’ll get one of those things. Liam had offered to come back with Louis to keep him company, but Louis wasn’t about to keep him from Sophia after being away so long, so he waved him off, climbing into the car alone and moping.

There are so many things running through his head, the lyrics to The Song, and Nick’s voice when Fiona and Matt had brought it up, Liam’s voice when he had asked Louis exactly how he knew he had no chance with Nick.

Not for the first time, Louis wishes he’d never let Nick join in on his prank on Harry, that Nick had never walked in that day at all. He could have gone on mildly disliking him, and they would never have become friends.

But he doesn’t really.

Louis sighs as he walks into his flat, immediately kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the kitchen. He takes his beanie off and throws it somewhere, ruffling his hair up just because he can, but once he reaches the kitchen something comes bounding into his legs, nearly tripping him up.

He looks down at Bruce, bouncing happily on his paws at the sight of him, panting with how excited he is. “Bruce?” Louis says, crouching down to muss up his fur, “Brucey? Hey, boy.”

Bruce is basically vibrating with excitement, licking all over Louis’ face as soon as its within reach, and Louis laughs, even though it’s gross. He spends a long time rubbing Bruce’s belly, a stream of endearments falling from his mouth, until he hears someone clearing their throat.

He stops, and Bruce woofs loudly at the interruption, but Louis doesn’t move, because Nick’s there, sat at his kitchen table looking nervous. “Nick?” Louis says, voice higher than normal, and he clears his throat. “Uh, hello.”

“Hi,” Nick says, and he looks a bit tired. Louis frowns and stands up. “Uh, I hope you don’t mind, but Harry said he had a spare key to yours at his flat, and I have a key to _his_ flat, and I wanted to be here to, you know, see you, an--”

“It’s alright, Nick,” Louis says quickly, scratching the back of his head and stepping tentatively further into the kitchen. “Thank you, for bringing Bruce home.”

“‘Course,” Nick says, but he doesn’t say anything else. Louis forces himself to walk to the kettle, filling it.

“Tea?” Louis asks, and he can’t help but grin when he hears the disgusted sound Nick makes. “Thought so.”

“So, uh,” Nick says, once Louis’ flicked the kettle on and turned around, leaning back against the counter. “How was tour?”

“Great,” Louis says. “It was, uh, it was great. Like nothing else, you know?”

“Not really, popstar,” Nick says, smiling. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

They go quiet again, not looking at each other until Louis’ water starts to boil, and he flicks it off. Once he’s settled with his mug of tea, he looks back to see Nick staring down at his hands on the table, anxious.

“Look,” Louis says tiredly. “Liam shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have sent you that. It was.” He gulps. “It was stupid, and--”

“It wasn’t _stupid_ ,” Nick says fiercely. “No, Louis. It was never stupid.”

“It _was_ ,” Louis says, frowning down at his tea. “It was stupid, and embarrassing, and I don’t know why he thought it was a good idea to--”

“I thought,” Nick interrupts, loudly. “I thought there was no chance.” Louis looks up, and Nick’s still looking at his hands. “I thought I was being ridiculous,” Nick continues, “that I got you to be my friend, finally, and that should be enough.”

“Nick,” Louis says, setting his mug down beside him. His hands are shaking. “Nick, what are you saying?”

“I was so happy,” Nick says, “ _so_ happy when I got the song, Lou. I listened to it a hundred times.” He laughs. “In a _day_. I thought it was too good to be true.”

Louis laughs, disbelieving. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t, you didn’t talk to me for a _week_.”

“I thought it was too good to be true,” Nick continues, “and you were still halfway across the world. And I had your dog. And I hadn’t seen you in so long, but a week seemed like _too_ long until I saw you, and I didn’t know what to say.” He stands up, taking a step toward Louis, and it’s like something’s pulling Louis in by his solar plexus, and they meet in the middle.

“I’ve been working on that song for months now,” Louis says, and Nick rests his forehead against Louis’. “It took ages to even show it to _Liam_. I never wanted you to hear it in a million years.”

“I love it,” Nick says, and Louis goes a bit cross-eyed looking at him. “I love it so much.”

“I told Liam I had no chance,” Louis says. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought there was no chance.”

“You were wrong,” Nick says, and he pulls Louis to him, resting his chin on Louis’ head and hugging him tightly. “You were so wrong, and I love the song, and I--”

“I love you,” Louis interrupts, and Nick hugs him tighter. “At least, I think I do. It’s never been like this.”

“Oh, well, I guess we should make sure then,” Nick says, pulling back and looking down at Louis. “Make certain it’s not like, gas. Or a hernia." 

Louis makes a face. “Gross. What’s a hernia?”

Nick laughs, and it echoes in the large kitchen, bouncing off the walls and back to Louis. It’s so much better than listening to it on the radio, or hearing it on the phone. It surrounds Louis, and Louis can’t help but laugh too.

“Hey,” Nick says, after they’ve calmed down. “I love you too, you know. I mean, I don’t have a _song_ or anything.”

“Oh, well I guess it’s over then,” Louis says. “I don’t accept any love confessions without some form of creative expression to go along with it.”

“I could do an interpretive dance,” Nick says. “I could make you a pot.”

“Please don’t,” Louis says. “I take it back.”

“I’ll draw you a self portrait of myself, naked,” Nick says. “You could get it tattooed.”

Louis starts to laugh, “I think I’m good, thanks, just leave the creativity to me.”

“I could do a cross-stitch, or a little macrame.”

“Oh god,” Louis says, choking on his laughter. “Stop. We’ll have just the song. The song is enough.” He pulls himself together and pushes back into Nick’s space, lacing his fingers behind Nick’s neck. “You really liked it? The song?”

“Well, it’s no _Nick is a Dick_ \--”

“You _are_ a dick.”

“I loved it. Love it. And I love you. Can I kiss you now? Or are we going to wait _another_ week to do it? Is Liam going to send me another song? Do I have to wait until your next album comes out?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Louis says, and kisses him.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! title comes from Right Now by One Direction and i reference the songs Monster by Kanye West and Swimming Pools by Kendrick Lamar
> 
> much much thanks to erin for organizing the entire thing!!!


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